The Girl is Always Right
by Gackt Camui
Summary: There were very few things Hiiro Yui did not know-most of them consisted of correct procedures in dealing with the opposite sex. So, who better to teach him than Usagi Tsukino? And you know what they say: the girl is ALWAYS right.


_Warning: OOCness. . .but it's humor! Gimme a break! (Gimme a break, break me offa piece of that Kit Kat bar!)_

_Disclaimer: Does it _look_ like I own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing?_

**The Girl is Always Right**

Prologue (Maybe)

He hated crowded places. 

Hiiro scowled in the middle of the bustling café as he waited impatiently for Duo to pick up his goddamned meal. The room was practically infested with these pathetic beings called humans. Someone brushed up against him and he jerked his eyes to the waitress with deadly intent. She squeaked, and juggling her tray of drinks, stumbled backwards, far, far away from him. With his mission accomplished, he stalked over to the bar where Duo was busy picking up a redhead. 

"Hey, Hii-man! The food's not ready yet." Duo grinned pleasantly at the violent quiver through Hiiro's jaw. "Why don't you play a game or something?" 

Hiiro glared at the cheery plastic seats with distaste. They were probably teeming with bacteria. His pants were new. "No." 

"They got some gundam games here." Duo pointed to the row of arcade games behind him. "That blonde is playing one." 

He turned just in time to see Wing Zero Custom go kaboom. 

"Oh, I was so close!" a high-pitched voice wailed before a barrage of random smashing sounds thundered within his proximity. His heart leapt from its abrupt standstill in his chest. The girl was pounding the control panel with her tiny balled up fists, much resembling the two buns on her head. 

He turned away, although he kept one vigilant eye on her and the screen. She slipped another token into the machine. The arcade made an agreeable sound as it ate it up her coin. The adolescent girl with her tiny pink tongue wedged to the side of her mouth, struggled awkwardly at the controls for a total of two minutes before Wing Zero detonated into scrap gundanium again. 

He ignored her—or tried to, at least. Watching his prized mobile suit explode into smithereens was bound to haunt him for the rest of his life if he didn't put an end to it. 

"You're doing it wrong." 

The girl swiveled around, managing to slap his legs with her long, long hair. She narrowed her lucid sapphire eyes at him, face growing dark red. "What?" 

He hated to repeat himself. "I said, you're doing it wrong." 

The incensed color receded from her face, then came back twice as strong. "Well then, Mr. Smarty Pants, why don't show me just how it's done!" 

She jumped to her feet right after her haughty challenge and he found that she was a few inches short of his shoulders. He ignored the look and slid into the vacant seat. She fed the machine a token, not noticing how eerie his eyes looked in the flashing light on the screen. 

Hiiro slipped his hands on the controls. Although he had never played a video game in his entire life, he had calculated several statistics in his head and came to the conclusion that it could not be as hard as piloting a gundam. He slammed his right fist into the round red button to begin and immediately fell into his mechanical routine. 

The girl on the otherhand was watching very closely to every move he had made. Fifteen minutes later with the highest score of kills of digital mobile suits and a small crowd of spectators later, he turned in his seat to smirk smugly and glare away those who had gathered. She blinked in wonder, only a few inches from him. He hadn't noticed just how close she was. 

"Wow," she breathed softly. He found the one-hundred and eighty degree turn in her personality slightly baffling. "You're really good! Could you teach me?" Her saccharine request was punctuated with an equally sweet smile. 

"No." 

She stared at him, sapphire jewel eyes huge and positively aghast. "What?!" 

It took all his strength to keep the sadistic smile from tearing into his face. "No." 

Her mouth opened and closed uselessly at his offensive answer. Her eyes clouded with tears. 

Was she going to cry? He hoped fervently that she wouldn't—because if she did, he would have to laugh. There were far too many people around to laugh in public. 

The girl spun around on her heel, pigtails flying into his face as she stalked off. He scowled and swiped them away. He lost interest in the world around him again and made his way to the door. Duo took his time to catch up, a plastic bag of takeout hanging in his hand. 

"So, how was the game?" Duo asked. He grinned and winked at the redhead at the bar. She blushed coyly. Hiiro tried not to vomit. 

"Hn." 

Duo shrugged and paused, pointing one slim finger to his right. "Hey, isn't that the blonde who was playing that game? Man, she looks furious!" 

The next ten seconds seemed to go in slow motion. 

First second: He turned his head, catching sight of the strange girl he had cruelly tormented trudging rapidly toward him. 

Second second: She met his eyes with deadly blue fire raging in hers. 

Third second: Her arm raised and he saw the tall sundae glass in her hand too late. 

Fourth second: The brown goo inside of it dislodged into midair. 

Fifth second: He felt the initial splash of a cold, sticky chocolate shake on his face, dripping through his freshly washed hair, and down his just laundered shirt. 

Sixth second: He watched horror-struck as one lonesome drop teetered threateningly on the edge of his forest green tank top. 

Seventh second: The round, sugary globule did a triple somersault onto his new spandex shorts. 

Eighth second: Hiiro reached for his gun as he went into a red-veiled mania. 

Ninth second: The empty glass launched from her hand and promptly smacked him in the head. 

Tenth second: His gun clattered to the floor as he reached with both hands to his throbbing forehead. 

The café fell into a tense and awkward hush. All eyes were pinned on the raging blonde and her pitiful victim, eager to see the rest of the assumed lover's spat. Duo took his chance to inconspicuously swoop up Hiiro's gun and tuck it behind him. 

The people in the back began to whisper faintly until the entire room overflowed with the sounds of a billion buzzing wasps. 

He glared loathingly, releasing the pressure to his skull very slowly. His hands itched to circle her slender neck and throttle her. 

"If you apologize," she said suddenly, voice low but clear. "I'll forgive you." 

The gossip died as if submitting to the order of their queen. Hiiro wasn't sure if he had heard right. He made no movement to do anything of what she suggested. In fact, he continued to stand frozen with the same furious glare. 

Someone called out from the outskirts of the ring, "You better do it, man!" The murmurs from the crowd rose to agree. 

Little did Hiiro know, the blonde was a well-liked patron who frequented Crown Arcade at least five times a week. Most people knew her as the-girl-with-the-hair-that-looked-like-food, but her friends, including the owner of the quaint establishment, knew her as Usagi Tsukino. In normal circumstances, she was an amicable girl with a sunny smile, although a little clumsy and somewhat clueless. In abnormal circumstances, for example when just two weeks ago, some daring young brute had approached her and slipped one hand up the skirt of her junior high school uniform as they chatted, she became a violent banshee with the voice to match. 

The industrial strength sundae glass that she had thrown at the pervert had broken that time. Unfortunately, he had not passed out after the initial blow, and so little Usagi had taken job carefully into her own capable hands and sharply-toed shoes to complete. Spectators had watched on in awe as the boy cowered in fear until he was covered in black and blue. Only when Usagi had exhausted herself from such strenuous exercise did he attempt to scamper away. 

But two of her dearest friends had witnessed the whole event—one who was infamous for her unbeatable record of after school fights and the other who was well-accomplished for communicating with vengeful spirits. 

No one ever did find out what had happened to the pathetic boy. The two girls had led him outside with the same terrifying smiles and that was the last anyone had ever heard of him. Rumors came and went. Someone said he was in a mental institution down south. Others said he was locked up in a dank, windowless cell with his tongue cut out so that he could not scream. And still others who had much more grotesque imaginations said he had been mercilessly maimed and mutilated and that his body parts had been dished out in last week's cafeteria food. 

In any case, the crowd watched the little quarrel speculatively. Would this young man receive the same outcome or would he humble himself at her feet? They waited with breaths abated. 

"So?" she asked, arms crossed boldly over her chest and feet shoulder-width apart. All four-feet eleven-inches of her glared him up. 

Hiiro couldn't explain the feeling that was running through him. His blood was boiling up and down through his veins, heart rate accelerating to such a speed that he thought his heart would run straight out of his chest. His pulse was vehement in the back of his throat, in his head. 

Was this anger? No, no; anger had tucked tail and run for dear life sometime between getting whacked in the head and watching her speak. This wasn't a terrible feeling at all, if it was a feeling. He had never experienced this unusual and slightly discomfiting state, never once in his seventeen years of life. But then again, no one had ever dared dump a glass of chocolate milkshake all over his face and _then_ throw the chunk of sturdy glass it had come in at his head. 

He spoke, but he didn't know why. "What's your name?" 

She looked startled, blinking those expressive eyes at him. "Usagi Tsukino." Then as an afterthought, "What's yours?" 

"Hiiro Yui." 

She rolled the name in her mouth thoughtfully, implacable look dissipating for a moment. "Hiiro Yui," she repeated, nodding to herself. "Nice to meet you!" She smiled broadly. 

Usagi Tsukino had lots of pretty white teeth in a small pink mouth. It stoked the fire in his blood. 

"I don't apologize." 

There was one gargantuan collective gasp. No one could believe that Hiiro Yui, as smart-looking as he was, had just bought himself a one-way ticket to Hell. A woman lamented for the poor fellow. 

The same guy who had encouraged him to apologize gave a sympathetic shout, "Good luck, dude!" doubling as a cue for everyone that made up the ring to take one big step back. 

The heat in Usagi's face rose and rose and rose until it became the lovely color of a ripe pomegranate. Her body quivered with indescribable indignation. How dare he! How dare he make a fool of her in front of all these people! And she had asked so _nicely_ for a game lesson and he had refused so rudely and quickly without so much as a reason! She gnashed her teeth tightly together, stomping with earth-shattering steps up to his face. Usagi Tsukino would not be made a fool, she vowed. She would show him. 

Her mask of wrath dissolved into one of sugary sweetness. She rose to her tippy-toes before him, face angled upwards so that he could see every floating silver speck in her blue irises. The fragrance of her hair and skin grazed his nose; it was almost like torment. 

Usagi placed her hands solidly on the sticky shirt over his chest, spreading them upwards to his shoulders. Her eyes held his. 

The feel of her fingers was exquisite, but not as exquisite as how her warm mouth felt against his. 

She had kissed him. 

The throng of onlookers gaped.

He stood dumbly for the first five seconds, eyes still open. And when she didn't let up, he began to respond. He was intrigued to find that the chocolate shake merged with her vanilla taste made a delightful combination. 

She was the first to pull away, expression slack and out of breath. Hiiro stared at her, his own mouth slightly parted, head light and heavy at the same time.

A slow, complacent smile curved her lips. Oh, she had him now.

Then, with one smooth stroke, she pushed as hard as she could and sent him sprawling across the squeaky clean linoleum floor. Usagi loomed triumphantly over him, hands planted at her hips. 

"You, Hiiro Yui," she announced loudly, staring down her nose at his prone form, "are a terrible kisser!" She gave him one last withering look, spun around and stomped off, skirt whirling around her long, creamy legs. He had the perfect view. 

Duo stared after her, wide-eyed. The café began to bustle again with noise and activity and utter disbelief. "Wow. She's good. And she's got a nice ass." 

It was then Hiiro Yui realized that Usagi Tsukino turned him on. 

_AN: *sits demurely in her seat* I don't know what's wrong with me. T.T I just had to write this. . . .Erk. I don't know if I'm going to continue it. Reviews help! Feel free to comment, flame, praise, and send me money. ^_^; Money gets precedence! [I revised this a little. . .not a big change!]_


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